Broken Homes
by Moonphase
Summary: Dean is a hopeless alcoholic, and an emotional wreck since his father died. However, his life begins to change rapidly one day when he runs into the shop of a charity worker called Castiel. Dean begins to wake up to the world around him, and finds out that he may even still have family and love. AU, Cas/Dean eventually,WIP. Loosely based on 'Tyrannosaur.'
1. Dean Winchester

**Supernatural Fanfiction- Disclaimer- I do not own 'Supernatural' or 'Tyrannosaur.' I am not making any money off this, it is purely a fan creation made for free.**

**Genre- drama, romance, au(alternative universe)**

**WARNINGS (and spoilers):**  
**Dean-heavy plot.**  
**No Sam for the first few chapters (there are plans to bring him in later.)**  
**Alcoholism.**  
**Religion vs atheism (no one side is demonised).**  
**Death.**  
**Cancer.**  
**Spousal abuse.**  
**DeanxCas eventually.**  
**Child abuse.**  
**Angst.**

**I am a slow up-dater (up-load once a fortnight max.)**

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Dean woke up to another grey morning. He lay on his bed, the mattress bare and no blanket covering him; he didn't care about stuff like that. Around him were empty bottles and the stench of cheap booze.

He brushed his hands over his stubbly face; it had been so long already. It wasn't fair for a human to survive shit for such an extended period of time. God should have made a mechanism so that when a human being experiences so much heartbreak, they're put out of their misery and die automatically. That's what a fair god would do. But Dean didn't really believe in all of that shit anyway.

As time began to tick away, he eventually peeled out of his bed and began to get dressed. He was unemployed and so had nowhere in particular to go. Therefore he went to where he always wasted his days, the pub.

He sat in Ellen's a few minutes later, nursing a pint and already feeling the dull painful throb of existence slowly melting away into a blissful apathy. Jo, the girl who actually ran the place, sauntered up to him with the attitude she always had since his life had turned sour, as if it were his fault everything was wrong and he was broken.

"Are you gonna see mom today?" she asked, "you usually see her before you begin to get drunk off your ass."

Dean thought about it. Ellen was in the back of the pub, connected to a machine and slowly dying of cancer. It was a painful death that was agonising to watch, but Dean had been there every day to watch over her since she came back from the hospital with the 'terminal' label.

He shrugged, "I don't know..."

"She's been there, _we've_ been there for you since you were a kid!"

"I know," it was true, Jo and Ellen were the closest thing Dean had to a family, especially since dad had died. He muttered an apology, Jo was pretty much the only person left on the planet who would receive one from Dean, as he got off his stool and wandered into the back. There Ellen lay, all wired up with a mask over her face so that she could breathe easier. She was semi-conscious, as she was most of the time nowadays. Dean slumped down next to her.

Her eyes, dull and lifeless, swivelled to him and she began to mutter, making him lean in, "I haven't much longer..."

Dean sat back up, "don't say that Ellen," he argued, but knowing that she was telling the truth. It hurt, losing so many people at once. She held out her hand to him, god knows how much strength it took her to do that, and he clasped it in his own eagerly. She was so thin and weak now, nothing like the vivacious strong woman he remembered. The only testament to her strength now lay in Jo, her only child.

The cruellest thing about cancer was the fact that you couldn't kick anyone's ass for it, you just had to accept it slowly destroying someone you love. He blinked back the tears, hoping fervently that he wouldn't cry. He had thought all his tears had been drained through the loss of his dad.

"I just wish," whispered Ellen, "that I could get some sort of closure, but I can't, I just cannot manage it...I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Closure? How do you mean?"

"Like an acceptance of the fact that I'm going to die, that it's ok for me to go."

"_But it's not ok,"_ Dean wanted to scream, _"I don't want you to die!"_ he knew he needed to comfort her, but he didn't know how to. He couldn't help her accept death because he couldn't accept it himself, and yet he was surrounded by it.

"Do you think there is an after-life?" she whispered, her voice like dry leaves, a far cry from the healthy tenor it used to be, "that a part of us is eternal, and that it goes somewhere else?"

"I don't know," he answered, brushing his fingers against her pale soft skin. He could see her veins through translucent flesh. "I wish I did, but I don't."

"I just wish someone could tell me it will be alright."

He held her hand and closed his eyes, he wished he could be the one to say that, he even tried, but the words got stuck in his throat, a few tears left his eyes. God, he was so tired!

"Ellen," he said at last, feeling that he could at least give her this affirmation, "I love you Ellen, I love you as if you were my mother." He glanced at her, only to find she was asleep.

He smiled, somewhat bitterly, it was probably for the best anyway. He got up from his seat slowly, like an old man, and wandered back out into the pub. Jo was drying a pint glass and looking like a stereotype. She give him a once over, her expression critical.

"We talked a little today," he said. "She wants some sort of closure."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, I couldn't totally make sense of what she wanted."He leaned against the bar and said quietly, "I think she's concerned about what happens after death."

"So, we should get a priest of something?"

He shrugged, "I dunno, that would be weird. She was never particularly religious, what if it offended her. I just don't know."

There was a brief silence before, "I guess you'll be wanting a drink?"

"Of course," he snarled, sitting on a stool.

"It won't make it end," she complained as she poured his pint glass, " Uncle John won't come back. He isn't at the bottom of a pint glass."

"But I can keep looking," Dean drained his glass ignoring how Jo rolled her eyes before serving someone else at the opposite end of the bar.

It was only nine in the morning, but the bar was already getting noisy. The jukebox was playing some noisy nonsense by some modern pop-rock band (Dean hadn't gone into a music shop for the last two years since he visited HMV and saw that rock and pop were in the same section together and now the terms were synonymous with one another. He had gone straight to Ellen's, drank enough to drown a whale and there made his vow to never enter a music shop again and that he would forever resent anything made post 1978). Ellen's had always been popular thanks to being open long hours, having the Ellen aka the dragon Lady behind the bar making sure all the louts (minus Dean) stayed out (now Jo had that job) and for it having the cheapest drinks around. Plus, this was one of the poorest areas in the city meaning that unemployment was high and many people relied on alcohol to get them through.

Dean thought about Ellen and how weak she was. It made him angry. She wanted some sort of absolution, she wanted god, but why? Who would want a god that would allow such things as cancer to spread itself upon the earth and strike down people as good as Ellen? Who would want to be in the presence of a god who broke strong men, like John Winchester, tearing the man apart, ripping away all that he loved until he turned into a cold hearted monster, a raving drunk, something that John always hated? It had killed John, knowing what he was, and now it is was killing his son, Dean.

There were a group by the pool tables now, young lads, all guffawing and swearing, spitting on the floor because they have no respect for themselves or for the pub, all taking photos of one another on their phones and high-fiving and fist-pumping the air. Dean sighed and tried to drown them out. His head hurt. He demanded another beer and a shot on the side. He needed to get drunk, the pain was too much. Emotional and physical distress, it just wasn't fair.

His surroundings began to spin slightly, reality began to twist. He sighed and looked out of the smoky window some feet away from him, ignoring all the jobless losers he shared the bar with. It was still daytime, not even noon. The sky was still grey. The weather was never cheery here. It was always desolate, like a lonely moor home to a mad hermit and wild animals and nothing else. _"The sky is the moor,"_ he thought, _"we are the animals...so who's the mad hermit? Well, I suppose that would be god. Jesus, I suppose I've cracked it! That's the eternal truth all theists are looking for!"_ he cackled at his own joke, knowing it was stupid and hating it, but laughing nevertheless.

"You alright Dean?" asked a young man. It was one of the pub's regulars. Dean didn't know his name, but the boy had always been pretty nice to him, "Oh, yeah, thanks, just a private joke I remembered."

"Alrighty then." The man grinned and flitted away. Dean watched him for a moment; he hadn't seen anyone wearing a mullet for years.

Now people were playing on those damn fruit machines. Another pointless song was assaulting his ears. He could hear the lyrics, something about people being encouraged to 'scream their hearts out on a rooftop.' Dear god, kids were taught this nonsense through song and everyone was wondering why Generation Y was full of a bunch of pussies who sued teachers for yelling at them and wept over the beauty of the Twilight Series.

He sighed heavily and went to take another swig only to find his glass was empty. He didn't remember drinking that one. Oh well, he was getting drunk, of that he was reasonably sure, but he also felt very in control of himself. Therefore he wasn't drunk enough.

"Jo, another beer."

"Haven't you had enough Dean? Go home." The petite blonde put her hands on her hips and scowled. It was reasonably intimidating, but nothing compared to what Ellen used to be able to do (his stomach lurched at the memory.)

"I've barely had any! I've had, like, two! Maybe three at the most."

"You've had more than that and you're slamming them back so fast you can't even taste them. Dean, trust me, you are drunk. You need to go home and sleep it off, come back later..."

He frowned, ignoring what she was saying and letting her ranting fall into white noise. He didn't need yet another lecture from Jo, especially when he had a killer headache from all the damn noise people were making, and big questions about life and death and god on his mind and an old friend dying next door.

"DAMN IT JO, JUST GET ME A BEER!" He slammed his fist on the bar.

Everything went silent.

He could feel all the eyes staring at him. The jukebox singing about feelings and sadness played on ludicrously. _"What do these so-called rock bands know about misery?" _he thought suddenly_, "they don't have a clue and it shows through how insincere their shit is."_

"I think you need to go," said Jo, ice in her voice.

Dean stared at her, his eyes bloodshot and angry.

The guy with the mullet put a tentative hand on Deans back, "come on man-"

"Get off me!" Dean pushed the thin man away. "what are you all staring at?" he roared. A few people looked away, but some stared on defiant.

There was only one who sniggered.

Dean whirled around to see the gang of boys around the pool tables. They stopped smirking and visibly paled as they saw him glaring at them.

"Dean leave it!" he heard Jo warning him, but it was too late, he had seen red and was storming towards the boys, his fists tightening.

The pool tables were situated near a set of fire-doors. One of the lads immediately pulled the door open and ran out of it, setting off the blaring alarm as he did. Dean let out a feral growl, enraged at the shrieking sound and that now beat down his ear-drums. He flung out his fist and hit someone, one of the stupid boys. He dimly felt the floor shake slightly under the weight of a fallen body. Then there was someone pulling him back. Seeing this as an attack, he swung round and head-butted the assailant before turning away and marching over to the pool-table. There were two boys standing there. One, hyped up on adrenaline and fear, ran up to him and tried to land a punch. Kid was an amateur. Dean whacked him around the head with a pool-cue so hard that the stick actually broke in half. He heard the kid he had whacked crying out in horror and pain, but he paid it no mind, it was all just part of the torturous noise that screaming at him at all sides now.

He grabbed the last boy by the front of his sports jacket and threw him up against the wall.

"Funny am I?" he roared drunkenly, waving his pool-cue like a Neanderthal. "Laugh now for me! Laugh now, I dare you!"

The boy then began to cry. It was pathetic.

The wailing sound of the alarm shut off. Someone must have finally stopped it. All that he could hear now was the snivelling of the boys.

"They're kids Dean!" he heard someone say incredulously. He turned to see Jo holding up the guy with the mullet, only now the man was bleeding and bruised. Had Dean done that?

"They're just kids!" she shrieked.

He looked about him and saw she was right. The kid he was holding up, the one who was crying, could have only been fifteen. About him the lads lay scattered, their blood staining the floor. On the pool-table he saw they had been drinking blackcurrant cordial. They were kids.

He let the boy down, "I'm sorry," he muttered, the words sounding stupid and meaningless even as he spoke them, "Oh my god, I'm sorry...I'm..."

He looked around hopelessly, not knowing what to do or what to say, not understanding the person he had become before he saw that the fire-doors were still open and so, in a flurry of panic and self-loathing, he ran through them into the cold, grey, unforgiving streets.

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**A.N- This is my first supernatural fanfic. I would love some feedback, pretty please? :3**


	2. Castiel Novak

**A.N.- I'm an atheist. My views are not expressed here. It's not about preaching one argument over the other, I just wanted it to be another factor in their relationship.**

**I didn't get any reviews at all for the first chapter, which made me feel a bit dejected. I assume it wasn't very good. I'm brand-new to this fandom so maybe I got too much wrong or maybe it was boring or too unhappy. I can try to improve if you tell me what I did wrong. If not, then in any case here is chapter two and hopefully you like it.**

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Castiel Novak rifled through the clothes rack in the little shop of odds and ends. It was a particularly dull day. The area was quite derelict so he received few customers, and young people -the ones most likely to spend their money- were put off going into his establishment because it was charity-based; everything Castiel sold was second-hand and the larger portion of the shop's funds went to helping the homeless. Usually he at least saw a few of the elderly folks as they weren't too proud to be seen in his shop, but today, like yesterday and the day before, no one had turned up.

"_I wonder if I'll have to shut this place down_," he wondered as he fussed unnecessarily with the merchandise for want of something to do, _"what would I do all day then? Stay at home I suppose, Lilith would like that..."_ the thought of his wife suddenly made his stomach churn uncomfortably. "_Stop it,"_ he told himself, "_stop being so pathetic!"_

But before he could berate himself anymore a man suddenly ran into his shop and all but threw himself into the clothing racks. Castiel didn't even get a good look at the man because he'd moved so quickly.

"Um, excuse me sir, can I help you?" he asked tentatively as he stalked cautiously to the clothes racks. He could hear quiet sobs.

"Go away!" the man cried, he sounded intoxicated, "don't come near me!"

Castiel could hear the man crying again. They were harsh sobs, full of sniffing and chocking sounds. They were the unpleasant tears of someone trying not to cry and to not cry too loudly. Castiel knew what it was like, feeling humiliated because you just couldn't hold back the tears, knowing how ugly you sounded as you snorted and groaned. It was horrible.

So, Castiel got up and turned the shop sign to 'closed' before sitting outside the clothes rack and quietly asking, "would you like me to pray for you?"

Being a devout Christian, Castiel liked to pray for others, he felt more sure of himself when asking the Lord things for other people, however he wanted to ask the man because he knew that praying for someone could sometimes be seen as insulting or patronising; for all he knew the man did not share his beliefs, or felt that a stranger praying for him was crossing a line.

However, the man didn't respond so Castiel began in a calm and soothing voice, "Dear Lord, please watch over this man. He is great pain right now and needs your unconditional, eternal love and guidance..."

Inside the temple of second-hand clothing Dean cried bitterly. God, he was so pathetic! He couldn't believe he was crying, but as much as he willed himself to stop he couldn't. It was the reason he ran into the shop, the tears had begun to fall shortly after he ran out of the pub and he was damned if anyone was going to see Dean Winchester running down the street and weeping like some silly bitch out of a costume drama romance.

He listened to the man's prayer. Of course he ended up with a religious nut, just his luck. But the man's voice, low and gravelly, like a whisper, droned on in a quiet litany and Dean found himself calming down. The tears soon cried themselves out and he was left breathing deeply and feeling the on-coming post-cry headache.

"So thank you Lord," Castiel continued, "for everything you've done for us and please help me help this man. Amen." Castiel opened his eyes and coughed politely, "um, there's a kitchen out back. I'll go make us something hot. The shop is closed so no-one will come in."

Dean was silent for a moment before rallying his broken bits of pride and calling out from between the cardigans and ankle-length skirts, "you got anything stronger than a hot drink?"

A low chuckle, "no sorry."

Dean heard the man leaving and so decided to stop being a big baby and to step out of the clothing racks. The man was nowhere to be seen but Dean could hear a kettle being turned on and the rattle of crockery in a room connected to the back wall.

He looked around the shop. He could immediately tell by the eclectic and worn-out merchandise that it was a charity shop. A picture of Jesus (the really European version where he had blue eyes and long, light brown hair and fair skin) hung on the wall next to the counter. A small red Gideon's Bible sat by the till.

"Here you are."

Dean turned around to see Castiel. The men looked at each other for the first time. They stood far away from each other, Castiel over by the door for the next room, Dean in the middle of shop.

Behind Castiel the dull yellow light of the kitchen shone out in rays all about him. Around his head the rays looked particularly golden because his hair was so dark, and the overall effect was that he looked like a character off one of the old medieval paintings one saw in churches, a religious, holy character with a halo about his head and the light of the blessed sun behind him as if God himself had set this man on Earth in order to carry out his righteous will. However, it wasn't this that made Castiel look especially beatific in that moment, it was the powerful blue eyes that shone out as hard as flint but also kindly and forgiving.

Dean stood by the clothes rack, surrounded by odd things people had gotten rid of, looking tired and pale himself. The pale, natural light from outside poured in from the wide windows, washing Dean and his surroundings out, making them pale and uncertain, almost as if he were a ghost. His eyes were large and shining from the tears, his hair ruffled and his skin looking fair and untouched. He looked vulnerable and lost, but also slightly ethereal.

Castiel gulped before smiling tightly, placing the cups of hot chocolate on the counter and then brushing down his unruly hair with his hand nervously; it didn't tame his dark spikes.

In turn, Dean slowly sat on a small plastic chair, coughing quietly and praying he didn't stink of booze or have bloodshot eyes.

"May I ask your name?" Castiel said seriously, leaning forward and staring at Dean with intense blue eyes.

"Dean," he leaned back as Castiel leaned in, feeling uncomfortable. "Who are you?"

"Castiel Novak. This is my shop."

Dean began to gulp his drink back, the feeling of discomfort growing. "Castiel, that's a weird name," he sneered. The anger was creeping back, Dean couldn't help it, the pain and fury was just there all the time fuelled by some unknown thing.

Castiel, however, took no offence, seemingly not even noticing Dean's unwarranted aggression and instead shrugged and agreed with him. "My wife thinks it's practically a girl's name, like Lulu or Wendy or Mischa. She thinks it's stupid. It is pretty weird. But that's what my folks named me. It's after an angel. The Angel of Thursday, or at least, that's what I've been told." He smiled again, self deprecatingly and sipped his own drink.

"So you're from a family of religious freaks?"

"I suppose so, do you not believe in a god?"

"I'm an atheist," Dean answered, "I always have been. I never thought much about god or religion much. I didn't mind it, I just didn't believe it myself. But recently it's been on my mind a little."

"You're thinking of God, do you wish to perhaps get to know Him a little more?" Castiel was excited, he had never experienced the joy of helping someone find the Lord before.

Dean sensed Castiel's excitement and immediately resented it, "no!" he bit out, "no I don't! I've lost people recently, so I've been to a lot of funerals and god and his great plan has been getting shoved in my face a lot, so I've been thinking that if there is a god," he scowled at the picture of Jesus, him leering down condescendingly, hanging on the wall between them, "then he's a dick. He's an irresponsible, monstrous being who allows this shit to happen but keeps saps like you hoping things will get better, and so you never actually do anything for yourselves, you stay in the squalor. It makes me sick!"

There was a small silence. Castiel remained very still, his heart beating fast and his face flushing furiously. He licked his lips slowly, wondering if he could have the courage to talk. He too glanced at the benevolent face of Christ smiling down upon him. Yes, he could do this.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He said carefully and slowly, "I cannot claim to know why God does what He does, or why He chose the way he chose to deal with us and sin. I also understand your rage. I have times like that. But please know that God doesn't hate you, He loves you, and he will make things better, but you need to help yourself first."

"You don't get it," sighed Dean, at once making Castiel sad (he thought he had done well), "I'm not mad at your god. That's what you folks get wrong. You always think we're mad at your god, but we're not. I don't believe in him. I'm mad at people. I'm mad at _you_. That all these things happen, these horrible things, and cheap platitudes and lies are the only way you can think of to make us feel better. It makes me realise how weak and gullible people are, how if it's something we want to hear, we believe anything." Dean got to his feet and continued, "you say you know my rage? You don't even understand it! And what would you know anyway? I can tell by your accent that you aren't around this part of town, where are you from, and tell me the truth!"

"I'm local," answered Castiel also getting to his feet but feeling a lump in his throat, "I'm from...the Hills..."

"The Hills," sneered Dean, "Rorshook Hills, the nicest most middle-class area in this entire dump! Yeah, I'm sure you understand all of us down here, who live in the muck! I'm sure you get us, which is why you have this cheap shop of trinkets sitting here not selling a damn thing because everyone here is too damn poor to buy a dog-eared book about romance, or some shitty, moth eaten pull-over! You're a joke! Do me a favour, do us all a favour, go back the Hills and live out your deluded life in your hoighty-toighty house, because at least then you wouldn't be a condescending hypocrite!"

And with those words, Dean stormed out of the shop and straight into another pub further down the road ready to get completely wasted leaving Castiel stunned and alone in his shop of unwanted things.

xxXXxx

Later that evening Dean stumbled home. It was dark and cold. The charity shop was probably closed now. Dean sighed. In his hazy, drunken state he recognised that he felt bad. Despite how much drink he had shovelled into his abused body, the words he had bit out in the shop kept playing in his mind, muddled up with the looks he had gotten from Ellen's pub, the terror of the boys he'd hurt, and the whispered words of Ellen. He thought of Castiel standing against the golden backlight, eyes blue and righteous and foreign. Castiel probably didn't know the first thing about hardship, being a bubble-wrapped, middle-class do-gooder, but was that something that Dean could hold against him? It wasn't Castiel's fault. It was nothing to shout at the man for.

Dean shook his head, internally telling himself off. He would go apologise the next morning, as soon as he could.

"Alright Dean!"

Dean turned to see a young boy, his neighbour's kid, sitting on a wall playing with his favourite action figure. Well, Dean figured 'favourite' but he strongly believed that it was the boy's only toy. He had never seen him with anything else and his mother didn't come across as particularly generous when it came to her son.

"Isn't it a bit late for you to be out?" Dean slurred badly. He was so drunk that just standing still his head felt like it was spinning. The world tilted to and fro making him feel queasy, he needed to go inside where it was warm and throw up in his toilet.

"Yes," evidently the child could understand and translate drunken-idiot-speak, "but mommy is with her boyfriend so I need to stay here."

Dean looked at the house opposite is own. All the lights were off. He pondered letting the child into his home, it seemed wrong to leave him outside, but if he did invite him in, then surely people would talk. The world was a bad place.

"You got nowhere you can go?"

"No."

Dean sighed heavily, before sitting down on the wall and trying to ignore the feeling tha the whole world was tipping sideways. He couldn't let the child in his house and risk a lynch mob assume he was some sort of pedo grooming a little lad, but he could sit outside with the boy.

"You been drinking again Dean?"

"Yeah..." Dean ruffled the head of blond hair, he liked this kid, which said a lot because Dean as a rule didn't like people in general. The boy smiled in response, pale blue eyes lighting up a little at the positive contact. Dean's heart hurt a little.

"Adam!" he could hear the neighbour screaming. He looked up, she was hanging out of her bedroom window, a little nightie not covering her up properly and so one of her breasts had slipped out and was hanging out the window as well. It was repulsive. "Adam get in here! NOW!"

"See ya later Dean," said Adam, hoping off the wall and walking back home, his mother flinging a key out of the window before shutting it, not even checking to see the boy get in safely.

"See ya," muttered Dean quietly.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try to set things right.


	3. Ellen

**A.N.- MariMagda, thank you so much for the review. I'm new to the fandom and very anxious so your kind review really helped me feel a lot more confident. Your English is fantastic and I'm happy that my attempt of symbolism translated across!**

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Once again Dean woke up in his un-made bed. The sky outside was grey. He could hear Lucifer, his neighbour's horrible dog, barking incessantly and the pigeons cooing.

Normally Dean would feel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of another empty day, but strangely, this morning Dean wasn't experiencing it. This was because he had, for the first time in years, a goal.

He got out of bed almost immediately, showering and scrubbing his teeth and picking out some clean clothes. After the shame of yesterday he wanted to prove that he wasn't some filthy animal that needed pity. He then bounded downstairs and made a quick cup of tea. "_Should I go to the pub?"_ he wondered idly before deciding against it (another first) because he wanted to catch Castiel before he began getting drunk and mean again.

Dean walked outside his hands deep in his coat pocket. The sky was still pretty dark and there was frost on the floor. He didn't feel cheerful but he did feel slightly lighter than normal, as though it were easier to breath and there was more buoyancy in his step.

"Hiya Dean!"

He turned to see young Adam bounding up to him, the action figure clenched tightly in his pale hands.

"Morning Adam."

"You're up early today Dean."

"I am? What time is it?"

"Eight O'clock."

Dean stopped and stared at Adam. Dean hadn't been up this early for years, not since he had a job at the local mechanics. "Really? Wow... say...the shops don't open till nine, do they?"

"Nope, where are you thinking of going?"

"To see a friend. He runs that charity shop on Holland Street." He looked at Adam's toy which was chewed and broken, and asked, "what happened to your action figure?"

"Lucifer got it," answered Adam sadly.

"I thought you never let go of your toy." Dean tried not to sound sneering as he said that, but he did think Adam was too old to be carrying around a toy like a comfort blanket. He secretly wasn't surprised the little boy seemed to have no friends, but as soon as he thought that he would always feel slightly guilty because Adam was a nice kid.

"My mom's boyfriend gave it to Lucifer as a joke. I didn't find it funny," the boy grumbled. There was a slight awkward silence before the child asked, "can I come with you to the shops please? I'll be good. I won't even talk if you like."

Dean sighed quietly and looked over to his neighbour's house. He didn't like Adam's mom and could never keep up with her various boyfriends and so he wasn't close to them. It made him uncomfortable to go somewhere with her child when they weren't on speaking terms. But at the same time he knew the boy didn't have much of a life.

"Alright," he said in a resigned voice, "you don't need to be quiet but if anyone asks you just chose to go to the shops and just happened to be walking the same time as me, ok?"

"Sure!" Adam practically skipped along Deans strides chatting the whole time about cartoons he had watched and the things he had learnt from school. It was weird, it was only a walk to the shops but the kid was acting like he was having the time of his life.

As expected most of shops were closed. Dean and Adam sat on a bench in the middle of the square of shops and waited. Dean wanted to go to Ellen's but he wasn't sure how well he would be received after the drama from yesterday. However, Ellen was on her death-bed, he owed it to her to be there. But then again Ellen's didn't open until ten, so he had time. After apologising to Castiel, he would go and apologise to Jo. He hated saying sorry but he really owed people this time and he knew it too. What he really needed was to get Jo a gift, something to prove how sorry he was. Flowers seemed stupid, and he wasn't going to buy her chocolates like a chump.

"Hey, Adam, if you made someone really upset, what would you get them to say sorry?"

The boy shuddered in the cold and snuggled up closer to Dean making the older man slightly uncomfortable. "Hmm...I don't know. I can't buy stuff for people 'cause I don't work. Mom's boyfriend says I'm a waste on society but he doesn't work either. Well he sells those plants he grows in the flat sometimes but... but anyway, sometimes I have to do stuff for my mom. Like I'll wash up the dishes or pour her vodka at her parties. Stuff like that, to show that I love her you know?"

Dean mulled it over. It would be better to do something for Jo. She always wanted him to give up the drink, which wasn't happening any time soon, so maybe something else? Maybe something for Ellen? But then, Ellen wanted what he could not give.

As Dean was lost in his own thoughts, Adam noticed a man in a brown overcoat limping to one of the shops.

"Hey Dean...is that your friend?"

He looked up to see Castiel pulling up the metal shutters of his shop. Dean froze in his seat, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Is that your friend Dean? What's his name? Should we call him Dean? Is that his shop? Dean? Dean?"

"Shut up Adam!" he barked noticing the boy flinch back before delving into silence.

He rubbed his hands over his face, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Here," Dean felt in his pocket for his last few notes of money. They were meant to be for the pub. He fingered them, wetting his lips and thinking of the drink, but feeling guilt push through his gut. The guilt won. "Take this money, go into the convenience store and get yourself a drink or some food, I need to talk to my friend alone for a bit."

"C-can I come back to you after?"

"Sure," Dean ruffled the kid's hair absent-mindedly, his eyes focusing on Castiel moving around slowly in his shop.

"Thanks Dean!" Adam leapt up and ran to the shop, feeling on top of the world. Dean felt the opposite, rising slowly from his bench and ambling over to Castiel's workplace.

The bell rang as he stepped inside nervously. Castiel was in the back, he could see the kitchen light was on.

Castiel poked his head out and scowled slightly. Dean tried to smile but found his facial muscles just couldn't do it anymore. When was the last time he smiled? He went and sat down beside the till.

"I've come to say sorry," he called. Castiel watched his with brilliant blue eyes that made Dean gulp.

Finally the man sighed and walked out into the shop, "so you're not going to insult me or just assume stuff about me again?"

"I'll try not to," was Dean's honest reply.

"Look I have my own problems ok?" Castiel began to complain when Dean noticed the limp and interrupted Castiel to enquire about it "It's nothing," the theist bit out, "just forget it. So do you want something or are you just here to dispel your own guilty feelings?"

"Yeah..." Dean struggled to think, "I erm, wanted to see if I could buy something for a friend."

Suddenly Adam ran into the shop grinning a chocolate bar in his hand. He passed Dean the last of his change, "I never stole any money Dean honest," the boy rambled on, "I even got the receipt so you can see."

Dean rolled his eyes and saw Castiel staring at him as if he were a monster. He blushed, _oh great_. "Adam it's alright, I said you could spend what you wanted." Ok that wasn't strictly true but he really didn't like the way Castiel seemed to think of him, "it's fine. If you have to do that with your mom or her boyfriend you don't with me ok?"

The boy nodded, pale blue eyes shining in wonder and happiness.

"Hello young man, and what's your name?" Castiel smiled down at the boy.

"I'm Adam," the boy stood up straighter as if Castiel was a teacher or a police officer, someone of authority.

"Well it's nice to meet you, I'm Mr. Novak." Castiel shook Adam's hand formally. "It's a bit early for chocolate. Would you like some toast and a hot drink?"

The boy gaped and nodded. Castiel left to get the food and Adam turned to dean and whispered, "your friend is nice Dean!"

"Dean," called Castiel, "would you like something to eat as well?"

"Really nice!" emphasised Adam.

"Erm, yeah thanks." Dean felt strange, the situation seemed weird, but he didn't know why exactly, and he didn't want it to end either. At the last moment he remembered Castiel was limping and in a rush to prove he was a decent guy he ran into the back kitchen to help Castiel carry all the food and drink. He saw Castiel with his back to him pouring a small amount of whiskey into one of the mugs. Well, Dean hadn't expected that.

"Making it an Irish?" he joked.

Castiel whirled around, his face burning and his mouth moving like a fish as he struggled to think of an excuse. Dean held up his hands, "hey I'm not one to judge, it's fine. Going by the way you're limping you could do with a sip of the good stuff."

Castiel visibly relaxed, looking up at Dean benevolently. Dean suddenly found his lips pulling into a shy smile, the first he could remember in a long time. He ducked away quickly, grabbing a tray and making his way on to the shop floor.

The three men ate slowly. Adam as usual filled the void of silence by happily chattering about various inconsequential things. It soon struck Dean that the kid was just happy to be listened to. Maybe that didn't happen too much at home. Soon the late winter sun began to rise and break through the clouds spilling pure white light on to the grey city streets. Dean watched the rays which reminded him of religious pictures about god's work on earth and suddenly had a hit of inspiration.

"Castiel, there is something you could do for me."

"What's that?"

"I have a friend...and she's really sick..."

xxXXxx

"Dean what the hell do you want?"

"Hey Jo," Dean smiled shyly, a smile which faded as Jo continued to scowl, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I really am. I'm not even here for a drink. _(I don't have enough money left,_ he silently added in his thoughts), "I just want to do something for Ellen. My friend here," he turned away to reveal Castiel, looking uncomfortable, "he's a Christian, and I thought he might have some...you know...comforting words about...you know...the 'beyond' and all that."

Jo looked at Castiel. "You think you can help her out? She isn't religious you know."

Castiel nodded but said, "I can't promise anything, but I shall try to be a comfort."

"Well...alright, please come in. Dean I suppose you can as well, but we need to talk. My mom's in the back." Jo touched Castiel's sleeve gently and looked into his eyes, feeling her boundaries lowering automatically and feeling suddenly safe enough to say anything to this man, "she's near the end. I'm scared and so is she, please, she isn't a Christian, but...if you can say something...then...please, say that something."

Castiel nodded before going into the room and sitting beside the woman's bed. Dean watched from the doorway, Ellen looked like she had aged fifty years before her time, her hair was thin, her skin like paper and pale, her bones beginning to show though her thin body. He hated it.

Castiel took her hand into his own and watched as her eyes fluttered open.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel. I am here to talk to you.

Ellen let out a tired, coarse chuckle before saying, "I thought you were an angel for a moment, isn't that silly? I'm not even religious."

"I don't think you have to be part of a religious organisation to have thoughts of a realm beyond death. I think that would be normal."

"Oh, god- if there is a god- wouldn't want me. My life has been full of troubles. And I'm not really a good person."

"You have a daughter. She seems good and strong." Ellen smiled and Castiel felt encouraged. "I think that even if there is nothing after death- even if the bible is wrong and religion really is just a way of stopping humans panicking over death- I think that despite all that we can know that a part of you will forever live on in your daughter, and in her children, and in her children's children. I know that might sound silly, but it's true. You carry your ancestors and your descendents carry you. In that sense you are immortal. And given the type of will and strength your daughter has, I'd say you have one hell of a legacy."

Ellen, mustering her strength bought her other hand over and placed it onto Castiel's. Dean suddenly felt intrusive, and so left them alone. He figured Cas was handling things.

He went over into the kitchen to see Jo wiping down some pint glasses. The pub was now open and a few folks were in already sipping, but it was mostly empty. Ash was guarding out front, making sure no one got up to funny business, but no one (other than Dean) ever dared to break the rules in Ellen's.

"Hey Jo," he sat down at the kitchen table. The tension in the air was thick. "Do you know what happened to those boys?" he asked, deciding that maybe facing the problem would be the best way of eliminating it.

"Two went to hospital," she answered, "you beat up some fifteen year olds Dean, congratulations. And the only reason your ass isn't in jail is because the boys didn't testify out of fear and no one in this pub rats out anyone else."

Dean sighed, not sure of what he could do. He bought Cas in the hopes of giving some peace to Ellen and in turn this could show Jo that he wasn't a total dick, but it was clear that it wasn't working.

"I know sorry isn't enough, but I don't know what to say."

Jo turned around and stared at him, as if trying to peel back the layers and stare deep into his soul. "You really know what you can do Dean? Really? The thing that I have been asking for for years. Stop the drinking, just stop."

"I can't just stop," he bit out, hating the words. He had denied his alcohol problem for years, but he knew, he always knew, he was addicted. "I can't. What would I do? Everything hurts! My dad is gone, my job is gone. I have no life, I have nothing Jo! I have nothing and the only thing that takes away that feeling of nothingness is the drink, the haze of being so drunk of my ass that I don't need to think anymore, I don't need to be aware. Jesus, I can't even sleep anymore without a drink first."

Jo bit her bottom lip before sitting down opposite him. "Have you," she began slowly, "thought of joining the AA or anyone like that?"

"I tried," he answered huskily, "but I'm too cynical and too grouchy. It didn't work for dad and I don't believe it'll work for me."

"Well could you try again, for my sake?" Dean looked up at her and saw e unshed tears in her eyes. Jo was tough but Dean had never wanted to see her weak or vulnerable. As a kid he'd beat the crap out of any guy who treated her badly. It stung to know that he was the one making her cry now.

He sighed shakily and looked out o the kitchen, through the corridor into the room where he saw Castiel talking to Ellen. Ellen was out of view but he could see Cas bathed in white light from the window, his quiet voice soothing.

He looked back to Jo and said, "alright, I'll try. I'll try again."

Jo smiled tightly before leaning forward to place a rough kiss on his forehead. For the first time Dean wondered if he could actually fix himself.

"Do you really believe in the Bible, Cas?" asked Ellen, her hand still on his, "don't think of me as a sick woman looking for easy answers, I already know that truly I don't believe in it, heck, I didn't even like the bible when I read it. I'm interested in you Cas, what do you believe, truly?"

"Well, there are times I struggle, times when I am angry with the Lord. I feel that he created this universe and therefore has ownership of it. So I think he should do more, I become angry, and I feel like he abandoned us. I feel sometimes, when I am angry, that the whole universe was God's experiment, and that it when it went wrong He just washed his hands of us."

"Then why are you a Christian?"

"Because I don't always feel that way. Sometimes I see children playing together, not noticing the differences between them, I see the thousands of stars in the night sky, I see a brilliant sunset stretching over this dark city and I suddenly feel that nothing that created this could be a malicious force, it can't be as human as we always see it. I think God is far wiser and far removed from us, something much bigger that we could ever grasp and that the Bible is metaphor, a metaphor just revealing something of that great being, put into human terms of jealousy and righteousness and law because that' all that we understand. Sort of like how time and space are too big for us to comprehend, too large for us to understand, so we break it down into numbers and measurements, because if we didn't, we'd go mad.

"It's in times like this, when I realise how small I am in the great scheme of things, it's in those times that I feel free, I feel invigorated, I feel hope and I even feel love for this Giant Force of Benevolence that I hope exists."

There was a small silence after that. They could hear the sounds of humanity from the bar, the whispered and tense conversation between Dean and Jo. They could hear beyond that to the birds and the wind outside.

Finally Ellen said, "I am still and atheist. Perhaps there is a great force, a god, and in some ways I hope there is, at least if it's something like what you describe. But now, listening to you speak, I can think of how intelligent and beautiful humans are, and that we humans are just a small part of the great beauty and wonder of this universe," he pressed her hand against his as hard as she could with her weak bones, "I realise now how lucky I am to have lived at all, to think about these things and to see the beauty of the universe, to be a part of this great thing. Thank you Castiel, I feel," she smiled warmly, "I feel at peace now. I feel like everything is ok. It's ok. I'm ok."

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Cas placed a kiss on to her forehead. He opened up the curtains of her dark room revealing a tree still golden with the last amber leaves of autumn clinging onto its branches. He hoped that the image would comfort her when she awoke. He then crept softly out of her room.

Dean and Jo were in the kitchen holding hands. Cas wondered if there was a romance between them. He gulped and said, "your mother is asleep. She seems content. I hope I helped."

"Yeah, thanks Castiel," said Jo, looking at him and letting go of Dean's hands, "like I say she wasn't a Christian but they talk about these bed-side conversions, never thought my mom would be one, but the last thing I wanna do is judge."

"She hasn't converted," Cas answered, "I think she just wanted to discuss death, and life."

Jo nodded, but Cas didn't believe that she really understood. Maybe no one would, unless they were there themselves or had experienced something very similar.

"I should get back to my shop..."

Dean suddenly stood up, "sure, I'll walk you down. I'll see you later Jo."

"Bye Dean, see you... Castiel."


	4. Cas and Lilith

**Thank you to the reviewers.**

**Warnings- Domestic violence- may be triggering!**

* * *

Cas closed up his shop, feeling positive. Dean had helped him in the morning after their visit to Ellen's pub. It had been nice having another person in the shop even though Dean was so moody and crotchety. Castiel had noticed something else as well. All day, after Ellen's, Dean had been calling him 'Cas.' It was nice, he'd never had a nick-name before. Lilith just would bark out his name, as if the name itself was enough to annoy her.

Later Dean had gone home, saying something about needing to tidy up his 'shit-hole' of a house but Adam had then popped in later that afternoon, as a replacement of Dean. The boy had been shy and embarrassed and no doubt expecting Cas to turn him away which, of course, Cas most certainly did not do. Instead Adam helped him sort out all the back room and made tea for the old woman, Berta and Clara, who had come in to buy new cardigans for church. The elderly ladies loved Adam, it wasn't often that they saw nice young children offering up pleasantries and good manners. Cas worried about Adam, there was something nervous about the boy, something Cas recognised. He wondered if the boy was being abused, but Adam hadn't given much information about his home life, and without Adam showing any visible signs of abuse or neglect Cas thought it was best to not call social services; he would just have to keep an eye on the boy and so encouraged Adam to come to the shop whenever he liked.

Now it was five in the evening and time to shut up the shop. He lingered for as long as he dared, before finalising all his cheques, putting the money in a safe, and pulling down the shutters. Outside was very cold and he walked quickly, jumping on a local bus which took him close to his home in the prestigious hills.

The house he shared with Lilith was in a small neighbourhood, a cul-de-sac to be specific. Cas's home was right in the middle. The poor house looked like it was trapped in between all the others, or so it always seemed to Cas. Lilith and Cas's home was fairly standard: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, dining room and living room, a small front garden containing nothing but a path and cut grass and a back garden that contained a shed holding a few plant pots and a boring garden with a few shrubs. It was very standard, lower-middle-class living.

Cas went inside and immediately turned on all the heating, Lilith hated the cold and would want the home to be toasty warm when she arrived home from work. He looked at a wedding photo of them hanging in the living room wall above the fireplace. She looked like she was smirking in the picture, her nose slightly up-turned and her smile almost cruel. Cas was smiling tightly, worry lines on his forehead.

He had hoped that day that things would get better.

Sighing quietly he entered the kitchen and began to cook dinner.

Three hours later, Cas sat alone at the kitchen table. Dido was playing quietly in the background. It was too warm but he dared not turn down the heating and so was wearing a light cotton shirt (a t-shirt would have been ideal but Lilith did not like those worn at the dinner table.) Cas was hungry, but he didn't want to risk eating without Lilith. Instead he drank away the red wine he was meant to be serving with the meal. They had lots of wine so Lilith wouldn't notice how much he had drank. He began to wonder if he should start packing away and crawl up to bed when he heard keys in the door. He gulped down another large glass of red wine with seasoned proficiency and stood as Lilith walked in. She raised an eyebrow at him and the dining table.

Cas smiled nervously, "hello darling. Would you like to eat something? I can warm it up."

"Microwaved food?" she asked, her voice dripping in disdain and Cas felt his tentative smile dying away, "when do I ever eat microwaved food apart from when you mess up dinner plans? I told you I was working late tonight. I told you. God you're so stupid it's embarrassing. Why would I eat microwaved food at this time of night? Are you insane as well as stupid?"

"I'm sorry," said Cas, "I'll put it all away."

"It's wasted now!" she shouted, "it's wasted! I'm the main bread winner in this house, I have the sensible job, I bring in the money! That's my food you've wasted! I can't eat it now, it'll taste horrible tomorrow, why save it? You do an laughably bad job of cooking anyway, but I eat your slop because God knows I have nothing else to eat, but now it's completely wasted."

She took a plate and flung it onto the floor, splattering the food across the carpet.

"Come here," she said quietly to Cas. He hesitated, but seeing the growing fury in her eyes, obeyed. Coming close to her, she began to hit him around his chest and waist. Lilith was a petite woman. She had light brown hair and large green eyes. She was beautiful, Cas always thought so. She kicked his leg, which she had already damaged in a fit of rage the day before, making him fall to his knees so that she could begin hitting him around his head.

He flinched but put up with it. When she got very angry she would kick more viciously, like the previous night, or she would even bite him. One time she had pushed him down the stairs, knocking him out; when he had woken out of his unconscious, he found that she had not only left him on the floor but she had actually peed on him. That was what it was all about really, humiliating him, making him feel that he was nothing. It was bad enough knowing that he was under the thumb of his wife, getting beaten by a small woman was even worse but Lilith always found new lows to sink them to, so that the mortification was just that much worse. Despite all this he never hit her back. He would never hit anyone, male or female, child or adult, it just wasn't who he was.

When she had exhausted herself he was bleeding slightly and could feel welts beginning to appear. "Eat that food," she demanded, pointing to the mess on the floor. Cas sat cross-legged and used his fingers to pick up a buttered asparagus, now slightly hairy from the floor, and began to eat it.

Lilith sat at the table, and began to eat the food on the other plate, watching her husband on the floor as she did.

After dinner they went upstairs. Cas showered and then had sex with Lilith because she wanted him too. He was tired and injured, but she wanted to so they did. Afterwards they lay together and Lilith informed him that they needed to start thinking about participating in the Nativity Play their local church would be putting on soon. Cas had agreed with her on everything. When she fell asleep, her arm draped around his chest, he lay very still so that he wouldn't risk waking her up. He stared across the room at a picture of Christ on the other side. He couldn't see it in the dark but he knew that underneath it had a slogan saying 'Jesus Saves.'

Cas lay cold and lonely in the bed beside his wife feeling that not only was he completely detached and unloved by her, but also by the universe and God Himself.

xxXXxx

Dean's green eyes scanned the horizon. The pale winter sun had just barely broken through grey clouds, its white light radiating out, dappling across the city. Dean was up early again, even earlier than yesterday. His head didn't hurt, but he wanted a drink badly. Real badly. Hs body was shaking slightly and he knew it was bound to get worse. So he had to keep images of Jo and Ellen in his head. He needed to think of Cas because Cas was the kind of person he secretly wanted to be. Dean was never the geeky kind, but he always kind of liked those types of people. There was something about that innocence that he was attracted to. He wanted to be good and kind and forgiving, like Cas. He even wanted Cas's life, a wife, a nice house in the hills, no doubt kids would soon be in the equation for Cas, it was nice. It's what Cas deserved and maybe, one day, it would be what Dean deserved.

He stretched before finally leaving is bedroom. The bed was actually made that morning. In fact, he had spent most of his day before cleaning and hoovering his home. It had been a little embarrassing because in tidying up he realised how dirty his home really was. He had washed all his clothes after that. He had to wash them by hand as the electric was low and he hadn't enough money to pay for the bill, but it was worth it. His home almost looked respectable again, like when it had been him and mom and dad.

"_Should I go to the shop today?"_ He wondered_, "I don't want to crowd him but...I want to see him."_

He thought of Cas's deep blue eyes, his dark brown, almost black, hair which looked so soft to touch, he thought of the way Cas tipped his head to one side when he was thinking or confused and Dean realised that he was grinning- actually grinning!

"Jesus what is wrong with me?" he spoke aloud, sitting at the kitchen table. He anxiously felt at his chest, realising his heart-rate and breathing had increased. Thoughts of Cas and his charms continued to push their way into Dean's conscious thoughts, he just couldn't stop it.

"_Am I obsessed with him? Is it because I haven't had friends in so long? But I'm not like this with Ellen or Jo...or Adam." _ He glanced out of the window, remembering the first time he had seen Cas a couple of days ago. _"Ok, maybe it's a bit of a man-crush, but that's ok, man-crush's are ok. Bromance's are vogue now." _He snickered at the stupid terminology but felt a little better. Cas cheered him up, Cas made him think of better things and he wanted to be around him. he didn't want to think of Ellen dying or Jo being pissed or him drinking too much, he didn't even want to know Cas's problems, not really, he just wanted to feel good and Cas did that and Dean was damned if he was going to let some silly worries about his heterosexuality get in the way of a good thing. "_Besides_," he half joked, "_If I was going to go gay I could do a lot worse than Cas."_

Dean checked the time. It was still too early for the shops to open and the morning stretched out in front of him. He thought of drink, but there was none in the house and nowhere was open and even if there was he had no money left. Maybe now was the time to make good on his promise to Jo?

He closed his eyes and laid his head on the table. He tried to think of his future. Dean had done this many times before, back when his mom left and dad started drinking, then when dad died, and then when Ellen got sick. Before he had never seen a future for himself. Dean knew he wasn't going to get married or have kids, he wanted that sort of life, but he knew it wasn't for him. No one loved Dean, he wasn't a good guy there was nothing in him to love. But now, now he could see him and Cas in the shop perhaps laughing, perhaps arguing, but that was ok. He could see Adam coming in, talking incessantly about stupid shit Dean didn't care about. When had he begun to even really care about Adam? It was before Cas, as Dean had known Adam much longer, but it seemed like since seeing Adam with Cas and learning a bit more about him, the boy seemed much more real. Perhaps before he had always been either too drunk, too angry or too hung-over to really see the child, where yesterday morning he was stone-cold sober. Then an interesting thought popped into Dean's head, what if Cas and Adam weren't the only ones? What if there was an entire world of people out there that he could care about and that he could love? Could he re-connect with the world? Could he be part of that? He now imagined himself standing beside Cas at a garden party surrounded by laughing people. Was that likely; was it in the realms of possibility?

Dean raised his head. That last image was going too far... but still.

Getting up Dean finally headed out, not to Cas's shop, he would got there later, but to where he could finally get some help.

The local adult education centre was combined with the youth centre. It was a depressing concrete building thrown up in the eighties ad covered in bad graffiti and boarded up with planks of wood and it's windows were heavily grated. Dean rang the doorbell and though it was only seven thirty in the morning someone opened the door to let him in. It was an older, rounder woman with curly blonde hair and too much make-up. He recognised her as the sex-education nurse who did a lot of work with the teenagers giving them the advice they had really needed from their parents before they had had a chance to get pregnant or an STD.

"Well I'll be damned!" she cried, "I remember you...Dean, right? Dean Winchester?"

"That's right," he grinned charmingly making her giggle. He still had it.

"I always remember the handsome ones," she winked leading him through the building. While the outside was vile, inside they had plastered over the dingy walls with hundreds of pictures and photo's and thank you letters from local families and children they had saved over the decades. Funding was always low and they relied on volunteers, but they were the small-time heroes that never got recognised. Yet still Dean had known that after five years of walking out of his last AA meeting that he could still come here for help.

She left him alone for a moment, offering to make some iced tea though really he knew she was giving him some space. He appreciated it, though it wasn't necessary, everyone knew he drank too much. He looked at the notice board and saw the AA meetings would start that evening. Jo had offered to go with Dean, as a way of making sure he completed the programme this time. He didn't like the idea that she was essentially holding his hand and that she didn't trust him to do this alone, but he knew she was right. He wrote down the time of when the meeting started onto a sheet of paper before stuffing that into his pocket and accepting a tea from the nurse.

"It's Peggy, right?"

"That's right Dean. Have a sit down, how have you been?"

"Alright."

"How about John?"

"Ah," Dean hadn't expected Peggy not to know, and shifted in his seat slightly, "he's dead Peggy. That's why I stopped coming. Dad died and I just...I just didn't care anymore. I didn't have anyone left in my family."

"Oh honey I'm sorry," suddenly Peggy looked very uncomfortable, as if she wanted to say something but wasn't sure.

"What is it Peg, what's up?"

"It's just...are you sure you've got no family? No uncles or aunts?"

"No, both my parents were from one-child families. My grand-parents on both sides died before I was born. What is it?"

There was a long, fraught silence now. Peggy took in a few large gulps of her tea, her eyes turned away from Dean. He allowed the silence, sensing that she knew something that could likely shatter his world.

Finally Peggy began to speak, firstly looking away but then slowly meeting his eyes as it became more personal, "normally, in my job, I get told stuff that I don't tell anyone. My whole career is based around confidentiality... but it's also about compassion and making people feel better. Though I'm not sure how you will feel if I tell you this...ok. Dean I shall tell you this and if I get struck off or sued by you, just know I am saying this with the best of intentions, the people who swore me to secrecy are both gone now and you're all alone and that hurts me. Ok...just before your mama left you and John she told me something. She was pregnant Dean, pregnant with another boy. But she couldn't cope, not with John's drinking."

"What? He only started after she left!"

Peggy shook her head, "no honey, he was drinking long before then. She had a hard time with you. It was post-natal depression, though no one really knew that at the time. Then John's drinking just added to the pressure and depression. By the time she got pregnant again she knew she couldn't do it." Peggy held Dean's hand, "your daddy told me this in confidence, and I'm breaking that now like how I just broke your mama's. John had been raised by a real mean nasty drunk, John and his older brother. You have an uncle Dean. Some years before you were born, it was becoming obvious that John was going the same way as his father, so your uncle cut off all communication with him. Then, when your mama ran away, she said that she was going to find this uncle of yours to see if he could take on you boys, because she knew neither she nor John was coping."

"I've got an uncle," breathed Dean as Peggy nodded mournfully, still doubting if she should have told him, "and a little brother. I have a brother?" Dean couldn't imagine having any siblings.

"I think so, somewhere out there," she brushed her hand across his hair and face in a motherly way.

"Thank you Peggy...do you know where I could find them?"

"I'm sorry no. You'd have to work out where your mama went. Are you alright?"

"Yeah...yeah...thank you Peggy."

Dean left the community centre and walked slowly to the shops. He had a brother. The notion felt strange and he wasn't even sure how he felt about it. The fact that he hadn't realised his father's drinking stemmed back further in time than he had known, or that his mother had felt depressed made him sad and slightly bitter. He thought back on his memories and remembered how vacant his parents had been, how defeated and how desolate. As a child he had accepted it as ordinary as it was all he had known.

"_Maybe that's why I'm this way now? I live in the same crummy house, I have no job and I can't keep a hold of the few friends I have. It's like I don't know how to be happy or fulfilled_." He passed his house now, and he looked up at it. The windows looked black, the house was empty and dark, a shell of what should have been. He bet that Cas's house up there in the suburbs was full of light and joy and life. He wondered how his uncle lived, or where his mother and brother were. Were they happy? He hoped so, even if it was something he couldn't be a part of.

He looked over the flat where Adam lived. Rap music played loudly, the bass thudding into the streets. The song was something about bitches asses and having a sweet ride. Dean scowled and went into his house; that was another type of music that had just gone downhill. There had been a time when Rap had been about empowerment, especially for working class, black people. But now it was all just part of the machine to make people greedy and feeling bad about themselves and their lot.

In the kitchen he turned on the kettle and began to think about his parents. If there was an uncle out there then that meant his details must have been somewhere in this house; his mother wouldn't have known where to go unless John had written down the address because, according to Peggy, his uncle had stopped talking to his dad before he was even born and therefore before John had met Mary.

After mom had gone, dad had packed almost everything up in the attic. After dad had died, Dean had left his room alone. Dean began to make a drink, wishing it was something stronger than coffee. He would need to go into dad's room, he hadn't been in there since John's death.

"_Maybe I should just leave it,"_ he thought, "_what if I do find this uncle? Wouldn't I just ruin his and my brother's lives? If my uncle cut off dad for being a drunk, then he won't want me around."_ Dean sighed and brushed his hands over his face, _"makes sense, who the hell wants to be around a mess like me?"_

He sat in his living room and watched daytime television for a while, but he just couldn't deal with it. His shaking was worse than ever and his head was beginning to pound. He needed to take the edge off, to be distracted. Finally he grabbed his coat and left his house, aiming for the local shops.

* * *

**A.N.- For more on violence against men check out charities such as Shelter and Men's Advice Line. Too many victims are too ashamed to admit abuse for they feel it makes them seem weak. The only person who is weak and should feel ashamed is the abuser, regardless of their gender.**


	5. Drunk

_**Last time:**_** Dean is an alcoholic spiralling out of control. He attacks a group of teenage boys in a pub that belongs to his surrogate family, Ellen and Jo. This prompts Jo to ask Dean to start attending the AA together. Dean has also made a tenuous friendship with charity shop owner and Christian Castiel Novak, who is trapped in an abusive relationship with his wife Lilith. Dean has also become friendly with a little boy called Adam, who lives with his negligent mother. Dean went to his local youth centre to get info on the AA meetings, but there meets a woman called Peggy who reveals that he has a brother and uncle that he never knew about. Unfortunately she does not know where they live. Distraught and confused, Dean leaves his home and heads to the shops...**

He needed a drink. He needed a drink so badly he felt as if he would die unless he got one soon. All day he had been quietly dealing with withdrawal symptoms, the pain and shakes and headaches, but now, with the added pressure and shock, he knew that he could not handle it any more.

He burst into a pub and counted his change. It was enough for a cheap beer. He ordered it a drained the mug almost instantly.

'_One day,_' he thought bitterly, _'I lasted without a drink for one day.'_

He had spent all his change, Adam had spent most of what he had before, and now what he had had left had gone on that one beer, so for the rest of the morning Dean had to go through the shame of ambling about the pub sneakily drinking half glasses of forgotten drinks as he found them.

One even had a cigarette butt in it, but he drank it anyway.

By lunchtime he had drunk enough to be quietly buzzed. He sat on a stool at the bar, laughing quietly at his own stupid jokes, ignoring everyone around him. Seeing a beer at his side he grabbed it and began drinking without a thought. A man beside him gasped "what the hell? What are you doing?"

Dean looked up with heavy lidded eyes, "sorry," he slurred, "is this yours?"

"It was you fucking pissed twat. You owe me another drink." The man leaned down menacingly, his other mates crowding around Dean all with angry expressions and crossed arms.

Dean snorted with laughter, it took a lot more than that to intimidate him. "I'm drunk and I'm broke," he announced, "so even if you search my pockets you'll see have no money. Too bad mate." He lifted the man's glass in a 'cheers' gesture, before taking a gulp of it. The man instantly swung, punching Dean in the face and sending him sprawling off his stool.

The rest of the thugs joined in, piling on top of dean like it was a game of British Bulldog and for a while Dean's world was one of pain and grunts and sweat and misery. He hit out wildly before he felt the weight being lifted off him and himself being dragged across the floor. He tried to open his eyes but blood gushed into them.

"Don't bother coming back here!" he heard a man's voice- which he recognised as the Pub Owner, "every time you come here there's problems. I know you're a local at Ellens, go back there! We don't want you here!"

Dean lay still for a long time, even after he heard the man walk away.

He just imagined how it looked, a drunk man lying on the street, covered in blood, in broad daylight. It was shameful, he should have at least had the decency to do this at night.

"Dean?"

His eyes shot open and he sat up rigidly, causing the whole world to tilt horribly and him to gag.

"Dean?" Cas was alarmed now. He sat by the drunk and wrapped an arm around him. With his free hand he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the drying blood from off Dean's eyes.

"They shouldn't have left you out here like this," he said, feeling angry with the people in the pub and the many more who had probably passed Dean in the street as he'd laid there. "Come on, once you're ready I'll take you to the shop."

Dean shuffled up closer to Cas, snuggling his face into the side of Cas's neck. Cas blushed horribly as warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to pull away but he knew Dean was too drunk and would fall.

"Let's stay still for a while," slurred Dean, "please just stay with me for a bit."

Cas tapped Dean's head awkwardly, "ok...ok...we can do that." He slowly stopped tapping and began to stroke instead, feeling Dean's short brown hair between his fingers.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" asked Cas after a number of minutes.

"Because..." whispered Dean, "because...I'm lost...and lonely... and sad all the time."

Cas gulped and wrapped his arm around the other man more tightly.

"I'm sorry," he said, but Dean was fast asleep.

xxXXxx

By the late afternoon, Castiel was sitting in his shop feeling awful. He poured a shot of whiskey into his tea and gulped it down, feeling the merciful burn in his throat and the delicious fuzzy feeling in his brain. God he needed it, he needed the support, it made him feel like it was ok, like he could get past this.

He had been fifteen when he had met Lilith. She had been two years older and extremely popular in school. She was bright, vivacious and fun. She was intelligent, she knew her mind and where she wanted to go. It made her a little ruthless in some ways, but Castiel had respected that. He loved her because she was everything he wasn't, she had all the qualities he wished he could have. As the years had gone by, he felt increasingly incompetent, that he couldn't match up to her, that she was so much better than he was. He had tried, by God he had tried to be the best he could for her, but noting he ever did was good enough.

Lilith stayed with him because she loved him, she said, that despite his many flaws and his pathetic nature, she loved him. She wanted to make him a better person, but his failings frustrated her. It was his fault that she was a monster. He was making her that way by being so stupid all the time.

Cas clasped his hands together and prayed quietly, "Dear Lord, please help me get better. Please, please help me become a better husband. I am failing so badly...I want to be a good man for Lilith...please, please God if you have any mercy, let something good happen...help me!"

At that moment, Dean suddenly awoke with an unattractive snort. He had been sleeping in a sort of makeshift bed Cas had frantically made up in the store room. Dean looked around at the various tatty blankets he had been cocooned in. His tongue felt like a rug and he imagined that he didn't look or smell too good either.

'Great,' he thought, 'Cas always has to see me at my worst, doesn't he?'

He climbed out of the store room and looked over at the dark-haired owner, who was watching him with curious eyes. Dean glanced away, he couldn't handle Cas's stare.

"You Ok Cas?" he asked, "you look pretty bad. Probably not worse than me..."

"Yes, I am ok," he smiled, "and you're fine Dean."

"How did you get me here?" Dean's memory was in bits and pieces. He dimply remembered the fight, that Cas had arrived and a few snapshots of Cas attempting to drag Dean through the streets.

"I'm stronger than I look," Cas answered, whilst thinking of his aching shoulders. Lilith had hurt him last night and dragging around dean had made them worse, but he didn't want Dean to think he was weak, and so lied. "Go to bathroom Dean, and wash up. You'll feel a lot better. I'll go make us something warm to drink and maybe some toast."

Minutes later, the pair were sitting on the old couch that Cas could never sell sipping very sweet tea. It was around two in the afternoon, and whilst Dean had been unconscious Cas had served a total of one customer.

"So," Cas began slowly, knowing that Dean was temperamental, "was it something in particular that sent you on a binge this morning?"

Dean's jaw worked for a moment before he said, "I just found out that I might have a little brother."

"How?"

Dean relayed the story Peggy had given to him, Cas watching with wide blue eyes. When Dean had finished he immediately asked if Dean was going to search for the missing family members.

"Your mother too may be alive and well," said Cas.

Dean shrugged, feeling and looking ill as his body shuddered from the lack of alcohol, "if she is then clearly she doesn't care about me. She never kept in touch, she never came back for me, hell, she never even took me with her when she ran away. Peggy said that she had post-natal depression, that means it's my fault doesn't it? I made her sick."

"I'm not sure on things like that, but I don't think it's the child's fault if the mother gets depressed," answered Cas seriously.

"Sure it is, everyone is just too polite to say otherwise."

Castiel frowned slightly, disagreeing, but decided to do some research later before saying anything else to Dean about it. "So you will just leave it for now?"

"I can't see what good it would do, me going over and causing problems for everyone. I just hope my brother, wherever he is, is ok."

"Maybe you should find him to make sure."

"I'd be an awful brother, trust me, I'm too selfish to look out for anyone else."

"I don't think that's true Dean," Castiel looked into Dean's eyes, his gaze heavy, prompting Dean to wanting to look away but being unable to do so, "I can see how you care about Ellen and her welfare, how you care about little Adam even though he's almost a stranger, and I can tell that you loved your parents by the way that you talk. You feel guilty all the time, and people only can feel that way if they have a strong empathy and love in their hearts. You love so much it's hurting you."

"Maybe I should learn to love less," choked out Dean with what should have been a scoff but instead sounded more like a stifled sob. He blushed slightly, feeling embarrassed and pathetic in front of Cas who was so strong.

"No," Cas ignored the sob, "you just need to love someone passionately who can love you back in the same way."

There was a pause as they looked at one another. Cas felt the blood rushing in his ears. It was so quiet and so hot all of a sudden. He didn't understand it. It was like the air had suddenly become thick, and his skin began to feel prickly. Dean became aware again of how much his head was pounding and how shaky his body felt. It was likely the withdrawal symptoms again, but to get them so soon?

"Who would love me?" he whispered, feeling heady and strange. His voice came out hoarse. He gulped, trying to wet his throat.

There was a few beats before Cas could find the strength to say, "lots of people would love you Dean," he lifted his curiously heavy arm and just touched Dean's shoulder, a shooting electric feeling suddenly sparking between them, "lots of people would be lucky to have you."

Cas smiled and looked at Dean, feeling light-headed, before the smile was suddenly wiped from his face and he stood up quickly. Dean frowned, not understanding the sudden change.

"If you do decide to look for them," he said, all business again and the previous intimacy shattered, "you should ask Ellen. She was close to your family."

"Yeah I guess, Cas, are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine, absolutely fine Dean. Never better."

"Right, well," Dean stood, suddenly knowing that Cas didn't want him there, "thanks for looking after me Cas. Others wouldn't have done that for me." He paused before hesitantly pulling Cas into a hug. He was thin, thinner than he looked. He smelt nice, like clean cotton. Dean smiled softly and tightened the hug, enjoying it, even as he recognised that Cas had not only not returned the hug but was tensing slightly.

Finally, he released Cas and asked if he could perhaps return.

"Of course," grinned Cas with such sincerity that Dean felt happiness blooming in his chest.

"Thanks, I'm gonna turn my life around Cas," Dean announced, a full grin on his face that hadn't been there for years, "me and Jo are going to AA together. I'm going to be a new man. I'll make you proud."

Cas chuckled and waved Dean goodbye.

Watching him leave from his shop doorway, Cas thought about his feelings.

He would need to pray some more.

* * *

**A.N.- I apologise that this took so long to up-date.**


	6. Adam

**A.N.- Short chapter, sorry! But at least it's an up-date, right?**

* * *

Cas closed up the shop. It was dark and quiet. He dove his hands into his pockets and walked briskly through the cold streets. He could have called a taxi, but he preferred to walk. He did not like to get to his house any earlier than necessary. The atmosphere was so icy it felt like it was biting against the skin of his face.

Dingy orange lights dully lit the streets. Up ahead, he noticed a small figure sitting in a bus shelter. He walked closer to it, frowning. The person was very small. The person was a child. A child? What on Earth was a child doing out alone at this time of night?

"Adam?"

The boy smiled weakly at Cas. He had a purple bruise under his eye. "Alright Mr Novak?" the child asked lightly.

Cas sat next to the child. "Why are you out here alone, when it's so late?"

"My mom's boyfriend is at the house," explained Adam, "so I needed to go out. Usually I stay with Dean, but he isn't out tonight."

"He's probably at home in bed," answered Cas, "he is giving up on going to the pub, so hopefully they'll be no more late nights for him. You should be in bed at this hour young man."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Cas thought of the child's mother. "It's not your fault," he repeated, wrapping an arm around the child. "Is there anywhere you can stay the night, an aunt's, cousin's, grandparent's?"

"No, it's alright. After a while I'll go home. They just need their space is all."

"Where did you get that bruise?"

The child touched it anxiously and winced slightly, "a nasty boy at school did it. It's alright, my mom will deal with it. She's the best."

Cas said nothing, but he was certain that bruise was too large to belong to anyone's but an adult's fist.

"Are there no adults you trust?"

"Yes," answered Adam as if it were obvious, "I trust you, and Dean, and Mr Williams, a teacher at my school."

Cas felt his heart sink at this. He was one of the only adults Adam trusted? And yet, Adam hardly knew him. Had Cas giving him food and being nice to him enough for this child to trust him so much?

"I'm going to take you to Dean's home," he said after a moment's silence, "you cannot stay outside. I would take you home, I wish I could take you home, but..." but Lilith wouldn't allow it, he thought.

"It's ok," Adam put his small, ice-cold hand in Cas's, "no one wants me in their home. It's ok. I understand."

Cas stood and drew the boy into a hug. "That's not it," he said, feeling his throat aching and tears welling up in his eyes, "that's not it at all Adam, never think that way!" He put the child down and rubbed his eyes, Adam looking at him curiously, not understanding Cas's emotion. "Come, take me to Dean's."

They walked in comfortable silence into the nastier, dirtier side of town. "I live there," Adam pointed to the top half of a maisonette. The lights were all off. "And Dean lives here." He then pointed to a house in front of them. Weeds littered the front garden. The lawn was overgrown and filled with debris and junk from the street. The white paint on the house was yellowed and peeling. It looked sad.

Cas walked up the broken path, Adam's hand tight in his own, and knocked on the door for a number of minutes until he saw the lights of the house coming on and the muffled swearing of Dean.

Dean ripped the door open, "what?! Oh, Cas," he looked down, "and...Adam."

"Yes. May we come in?"

Dean nodded and moved aside to let them enter.

Inside Dean boiled the kettle as Cas explained how he had found Adam outside. Adam himself was in the living room watching television.

"He can't be left outside," Cas was saying, "who knows what will happen to him? It doesn't bear thinking about. He says he often meets you on the street at night."

"Yeah, he does. I'm usually pissed and wandering home when I bump into him. We sometimes crash on the floor outside and sleep until morning. I understand that he needs somewhere safe to go at night, but people will think I'm some sort of kiddy-fiddler if I keep him here."

Cas gaped for a while before, "but you're not! You're being good by letting him stay. His mother has cast him out for the night. And have you noticed that bruise? He says it was a bully from school."

"I doubt that shiner was from another kid, unless that bully is a very large one. I don't know much about his home life, but I've had my suspicions for a while." He sighed, "the truth is, I never wanted to get involved. I've as always too busy dealing with my own crap." He felt a squirm of guilt in his stomach at his own words. He had long realised that Adam was from a bad background, but he was so accustomed to abuse that it hadn't fazed him. He had always been too concerned about getting his next drink. Man, he really did need to start sobering up. The first AA meeting was the following morning. He had already agreed to go with Jo.

"However," he continued, "even if he is being abuse, there's little we can do other than get the social involved. If I take him in, people will talk." He yawned and stretched. He was only wearing boxers. Cas flushed and looked away.

"So what," asked Cas sullenly, "we just leave him in the road?"

"No, I'll see if I can get a lady friend round. It's pretty late though," he muttered as he grabbed his phone, "Jo won't be happy..."

As he dialled, Cas looked at his watch. He should have been home an hour ago. Lilith was going to be furious. He hastily got out his mobile and explained to her the situation along with a series of apologies. She never responded. That was a bad sign.

"Good news," Dean wandered back into the kitchen, "Jo said she can come round. Someone is watching over Ellen, so everything is sorted." He noticed Cas's worried expression and so put a hand on his shoulder and said happily, "it's ok man. Adam is safe and Jo is coming, so I won't look like a paedophile. People trust women more than men. You can go home now."

With those last few words from Dean's mouth, Cas was almost physically sick, but he managed to hold it together. Slowly, he got to his feet and with Herculean effort managed a smile.

"Thank you, Dean. I shall go now." He called out a goodbye to a happy (but sleepy) Adam and left the house. Dean waved him goodbye.

xxXXxx

The following afternoon, Dean walked down to the shops. He had gone to his first AA meeting that morning with Jo after they dropped Adam off at his mother's. Jo hadn't wanted to, but they both knew they couldn't keep the boy with them. Dean wanted to talk to Cas so badly. He wanted to talk about AA, and of Adam and Jo's thoughts on the situation, but the shop was closed.

Dean frowned. Why was it closed? He thought of calling Cas, but then realised that he didn't have Cas's number. He didn't even know exactly where Cas lived.

With a sadness settling in his stomach, Dean walked away, wondering how he was going to spend his time without drink, Adam (who was at school) or Cas.

Cas's shop wouldn't be open for another three days.


	7. Dean and Cas

**A.N. - I can only humbly apologise for how long it's taken for me to update.**

** This starts gloomy but perks up near the end. We need some happiness in this fic.**

* * *

Cas's world was one of pain and humiliation. On the fourth day of being confined inside his own home, he stood in the bathroom completely naked staring into the mirror. His skin was white, almost grey. He was desperately underweight. Since his marriage he found that he had slowly lost his appetite until he now rarely ate anything. He drank a lot more though. He got through a number of bottles of wine each week. He opened his mouth and looked at his tongue. It was beginning to blacken from the heavy alcohol levels. He wondered if Dean's was the same? Of course there was a difference between him and Dean, namely that Dean was alcohol dependent and Cas was not. Cas just needed to alcohol to survive living with Lilith, should his situation change he could give up the drink no problem.

Most of the bruising on his face had gone down now. Instead he was left with a few yellowed patches. How would he explain his injuries away? He needed something manly; he couldn't bear to tell a tough guy like Dean that he had beaten up by his sweet, little wife. Perhaps he could say that he went paintballing? Paintballing for someone who was getting married soon? And that maybe it all got too rough?

Yeah that was convincing, right?

He wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the shower. Lilith was still in the house, and his stomach sank with this knowledge. She looked up at him when he walked into the bedroom. She was in one of her power suits. She looked very beautiful, as always. He felt sorry for her work colleagues. Lilith was something of an office bully, but as she was the line manager there wasn't much people could do to her.

She stood up and let her eyes run over him. "You're so ugly," she complained. "I never wanted a scrawny little man. I always wanted a nice, toned, dark man; someone who could look after me instead of the other way around."

Cas tensed but said nothing. She touched his arm, running her hand up slowly and possessively, running it across his chest, her nails scratching lightly through black chest hair. She then went up to his face and cupped his chin.

"You do have nice eyes," she said, "nice for me. Other people would find them to round and too wide, but I like them. You're lucky you found me, or else you'd be old and alone forever." She gave him a kiss on the sound of his mouth as her hands trailed lower. Cas felt the towel fall to the ground. She touched his groin area, and desperately he began thinking of men to make himself hard. Making love to Lilith was difficult, it had always been difficult, but nowadays he had to think of men in order to be able to harden up for her at all.

Luckily he was saved when the alarm on her mobile went off. "Damn it I need to go to work!" she hissed, slapping his face as if it were all his fault.

Frustrated she stormed out of the room and down the stairs. "I want a romantic night tonight!" she roared, "for once you will be a man and satisfy me!"

He heard the front door slam and the squeal of tyres and she drove away.

Cas sighed in relief and rubbed his hands over the parts of his body she had touched. He hated belonging to her. But now he could focus on other things, he was going to work. Granted his body was still sore, but he was tired of being at home. He was sick of being surrounded by Lilith and her domain. In the shop he could focus on people he really did want to be around.

He put on some dark jeans and a white shirt before checking himself out in the mirror.

"Oh what am I doing?" he thought after a few moments. "I am so stupid! I'm acting as if I am going on a date! But I am married and the one I care for is another man. It's not as if dean would ever like me back anyway."

He looked in the mirror and saw what Lilith had complained about. His eyes were too wide and starring. He knew they freaked people out when he looked at them. And he was too skinny and nerdy; no wonder he was gay, maybe he wasn't man enough for a woman. Maybe he was a little girly man? How embarrassing.

He looked at the picture of Jesus that hung in their bedroom. Jesus hadn't been a weakling, lusting after other men. He had been manly and brave and strong. Dean got down in his knees and prayed to Jesus for help He prayed for some of Jesus's strength of will so that he could resist the pull of Dean.

"I will do anything," he prayed, "anything to be rid of this illness. Please, just send me a sign, and I will obey. Amen."

xxXXxx

Within one hour of opening the shop, Dean entered.

"Hey Cas!" he smiled at Castiel with such warmth that Cas felt like crying. "What happened to you man?" Dean took in Cas's damaged skin. His beautiful smile was replaced with a slight frown.

Cas shrugged, "I was at a, eh, paintballing game and I got hit."

"You went paintballing?"

"Yes," Cas felt himself bristling. He didn't like how Dean had emphasised the 'you'. "I paintball and stuff like that, I'm not weak."

"I never said you were Cas." Dean walked up to him and laid his hand on his back. Cas felt himself heating up from Dean's touch. His tongue felt swollen and suddenly he couldn't speak. Dean leaned in closer, looking at Cas closely.

'_Something is going on here,'_ he thought, '_he's been hurt by someone, but who?' _The idea of someone hurting his own sweet Cas made his blood boil. But clenching his fists he was determined to be calm. It was like what he had learned at the AA about drink, he had to develop his self control. If he got mad he'd only frighten Cas, who was currently breathing shallowly and looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Cas, Cas! Calm down!" He took Cas's hand in his own, ignoring the feeling of sparks, and led him to the old settee. Dean put his arm across Cas's shoulders.

"I went to the AA meeting," Dean said, watching Cas carefully. "It was pretty hard at first, but I had Jo there to help me. I have you to thank for a lot of this, you've really helped me."

"It was nothing," gasped Cas, his chest still heaving but a bright flush spreading into his face from the praise. "You should think about getting some sort of work next. I wish I could hire you in here."

"Nah, I'm no good with people."

"You're good with Adam."

Good humour had been in Dean's face as he'd watched his friend calm down and blush like a school girl, but now that left and he felt cold again. "I'm not good with Adam, it was only until you came last night that I even thought to do anything about his family situation. A part of me knew he was being abused, I knew he was being neglected but I just didn't..." he shrugged and trailed off.

"Dean," Cas said in a firm voice that dean secretly thought suited him a lot more than the softly spoken, sad way he had about him sometimes, "you are dealing with some severe issues of your own. When someone is broken they can't fix someone else. You have to heal yourself first, then help others. You were in no position to help Adam. But now, with the support of me and Jo and all the friends you'll make at the AA, maybe you can."

"I called social services this morning. They'll investigate but I think it's going to take a long time."

"Then in that time we'll be there for Adam. He finishes school at three, and I've told him that he's more than welcome to come here after school."

"Be careful you don't break any child labour laws," Dean grinned.

Cas looked at him in horror, "I would never do that! Please believe me I wasn't saying that Adam would work here, why are you laughing!?"

"I'm sorry Cas!" Dean laughed, "I was only joking before, are you on the spectrum or something?"

Cas folded his arms, feeling stupid and a little defensive, "well arguably yes, but only because everyone is."

"Oh Cas," without thinking, overcome with feelings for the sweet, silly man, Dean leaned over and kissed the top of Cas's head.

Both men froze.

Silence reigned but in their heads both of them were screaming.

**Cas:**_** Oh my God ok, I don't understand, surely that was friendly wasn't it? Yes, that's right, just friendly! So do I laugh, or do I not acknowledge it? It was only a kiss on the head, it's what children receive, now how do they react? They don't they just do whatever. So, wait does this mean he thinks of me like a child, or as a pet? Oh no want him to see me as a man! Oh, but no this is better surely? This way he'll never see me as even human so the chances of a romantic relationship are zero. I mean, they always were as I am unattractive, and married, and heterosexual and a Christian. A good Christian, not a happy-liberal-cherry-picker Christian! But still, this just makes sure. Should I act more like a pet? No Castiel! Don't be so foolish! What, should I sniff around his crotch and lick his face, of course not! Even though...oh God, impure thoughts!**_

**Dean:**_** Oh god what is wrong with me? Why did I kiss him? And now I've made everything awkward. God I'm such an idiot, only I would do something so gay and inappropriate! Ok Dean, it's fine, Cas is totally socially awkward so he won't know that what I did was kinda weird, I'll just play it off like it's no big deal. Be smooth Dean, be smooth...**_

"Oh, well, anyway," Dean coughed, "I better go."

And he was about to bolt out of the shop when Cas whined, "r-really? Are you leaving?"

Dean looked at him. Cas's eyes looked even wider than normal. A deep feeling of shame washed through him. he was really going to run out on one of his only friends over something so stupid? And he knew where he was going to run to as well; it was as if it were on default, he was going to run to the pub and get plastered. He hated feeling embarrassed or stupid, and getting drunk was his way of dealing with his insecurities.

'Only it isn't dealing with them at all," he reasoned to himself, "it's running away from them."

He smiled at his blue eyed friend. "I was just going to the corner shop, would you like anything?"

Cas gave him the most beautiful smile Dean had ever seen and shook his head. Dean left the shop almost in a daze. 'I really do fancy him,' he thought, 'and I officially don't care anymore!'

As soon as Dean left, Cas dived into the bathroom and began to check how he looked. He brushed his hand through his hair. It was a mess as usual, Lilith was always complaining about how he looked like an errant school boy, but Dean seemed to never complain about it.

His heart was beating fast. Splashing some water on his face, Cas tried to calm it down. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Is this ok?"he muttered, "I like Dean, I like him a lot. But I'm a man of God and I am married. To be with Dean is wrong. The Bible says that if a part of you is causing you to sin, that you should cut it off. Yet, at the same time, Dean is a dear and good friend who makes me feel better. God never said that it's bad to feel good. He also is against spouses hurting one another. Jesus would not accept Lilith's treatment of me. So, me having a friend is a good thing. However, I must not let it affect my marriage. As long as I do not commit the sin, I'll be fine."

'But, a relationship between you and Dean exists in your fantasies,' said a little voice in his mind, 'and Jesus said that the man who has fornicated in his mind has committed that fornication.'

"But I can't help my mind," he whispered in response. "Maybe I should keep dean as a friend and help him, help him improve his life and become a better person. Surely that can be my way of following Jesus' footsteps. I won't convert Dean, or I won't try to, but I will show him Christian kindness all whilst loving him from afar but never indulging. Perhaps my love for him can be transferred away from this lust and into something more holy."

Feeling better in himself, Cas exited the bathroom just as Dean arrived back in the shop. He held up a box and waved it joyfully.

"I bought some pie!" he called, "we can heat it up in a microwave or have it cool!"

"Let's warm it up," smiled Cas, "then we can eat it whilst looking up different job applications for you."


	8. Job Hunt take 1

**A.N.- Again thought we could do with some nice stuff and just showing the boys together having a bit of fun. It's only a short chapter though.**

* * *

"So, what kind of work are you interested in?"

"Well, before my dad passed away, I used to be a mechanic." Dean swallowed a piece of apple pie, "I worked in my dad's garage, but after the drink got out of control I couldn't be trusted any more. In the end the business closed down and the garage was sold."

"I'm sorry about that Dean," Cas put his hand on Dean's arm for just a second before pulling away, "so perhaps if we get you working in someone else's garage for now, as a hired mechanic, because that'll be easier for you. It'll ease you back in."

"Sounds good."

Cas grabbed a newspaper and flicked though the wanted ads.

"Ok, there's one here. Motor Technician required for Bob's garage. Good pay and healthy doses... of... _fondling_," Cas's reading slowed, "must have a nice ass...oh my!"

Dean laughed, "are you serious!"

Cas's red face revealed that he was. He huffed a little and tore out that section of the paper, scrumpled it up and threw it into the bin. "Well, you won't be working there Dean, I can't believe they allowed that to be published."

"It's probably a practical joke," said Dean, chocking with laughter, "oh man, your face is hilarious!"

"I don't find things like that funny."

"Oh lighten up, you're so stiff...Stiff like Bob must be in interviews!" Dean burst out laughing again as Cas flushed an even deeper shade of red. He was beginning to look like a radish.

"There's another one," he said loudly over Dean's chortles, "it's for a garage called Crowley's. They want someone with good hands, a strong work ethic and a lot of dedication and loyalty. It sounds good."

"Mmm," grunted Dean, reclining back into the settee, "Crowley is a small time gangster around here. It's all for show. He needs someone to do stuff that not as innocent as fixing innocent folks cars."

"Really?" Cas looked doubtfully at the paper, "are you sure? Are you teasing me again?"

"No," Dean smiled at him fondly, causing him to smile shyly, "no I'm not teasing you. Believe me Crowley is not a good guy. He owns a lot of stuff around here and a couple of my neighbours have been attacked in the past for not paying him what is due, or cheating him in some way."

Cas paled, "that's awful, has anyone called the police before?"

"Probably."

Dean watched Cas closely without making it obvious. The man looked confused and concerned. It was strange, there was someone hurting Cas, that much was becoming clear to Dean, but who? He had thought that Cas was some innocent, but with the bruises he began to think of what kind of trouble a middle class surbubanite could get himself into. Debt with the wrong people seemed obvious, middle class people living beyond their means and going for dangerous loans to keep up appearances was surprisingly common, but after hearing about Crowley Cas didn't look scared or even like that sort of thing was familiar. Again Cas was giving the impression that he was totally innocent about all the nasty things that happened in the world. So what was going on?

"Well, there is only one more now. Oh, it's pretty far away though."

"Read it anyway, I could always commute."

Cas nodded, feeling better that Dean hadn't suggested moving further away for the sake of a job. "Well, it's just outside the county. They want someone with patience, with at least five years experience working with cars, and for the person to not be a total idiot in general...well that isn't very polite but it's honest I guess. It's for a garage called the Winchester. What do you think? Dean? Dean! What's wrong?"

Dean had frozen up and gone very pale.

"Um it's nothing," he stammered once he snapped out of it.

Cas turned his head in a strange, animalistic manner as he curled his body round to look in Dean's eyes. "It isn't nothing," he said slowly, not noticing how Dean's breath caught, "what's wrong? You can tell me."

"It's stupid...my, my second name is Winchester. And with all this stuff about a brother and my mom..."

"You're thinking this could be your family?"

"It's a shot in the dark," muttered Dean, standing up and stretching, feigning nonchalance, "a lot of people have the second name Winchester."

Cas wrinkled his nose. He'd never heard that second name before.

"Or, it's probably just some distant cousins," Dean continued, noting Cas's doubt, "or maybe some people just like that name."

A beat.

"We could always phone and find out."

Dean toyed with the idea of being honest. He looked over at Cas. Surely he could tell this man the truth?

"I don't want to," he began slowly, "Cas I...I'm kind of scared. My life is a mess right now."

"Is this all about you thinking you'd be a bad brother and family member?" asked Cas, "you've said stuff like this before but Dean, it isn't true. You're an amazing man. I think you could do with having more people in your life to lean on."

"I don't want to be a burden."

"It's not a burden."

"Maybe not to you Cas. But not everyone is like you. Most people would have given up on me. You're special."

Cas squirmed slightly, he was unused to any sort of praise. "I'm not special," he muttered, immediately feeling to need to undermine any compliment Dean had given him, "I won't push you into doing anything. So, if you want, I won't bring this up again. But know I am keeping this advert. If you ever change your mind, we now at least have a clue to finding your family."

Dean smiled. He hadn't smiled this much in years, his face was almost sore from it.

"Thanks Cas."

"No problem. But what are we going to do about you getting a job?" Cas turned back to their task, and all the tight fuzzy warm feeling dissipated ad returned to mutual friendship. "You have refused all the mechanic jobs, and there are no more."

"I didn't refuse them all." Dean smiled, "you got all uppity about the first one."

"Dean..." growled Cas with such a low, warning grumble that it shot through into Dean's groin, he ignored it.

"I've got a great ass, I should go for it."

Dean roared with laughter again as Cas flushed a brilliant shade of red and ducked his head in embarrassment.


	9. Chuck

**A.N.- Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. They inspire me and encourage me to write more, as I have felt overwhelmed sometimes by this fic.**

**Warnings: This chapter has themes of religious debate and mental illness (paranoid schizophrenia) in it!**

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The morning went along nicely. Dean and Cas began to sort out Dean's C.V., working out what he could say when employers asked him why he'd been out of work so long. Cas didn't think dean should lie but found entertaining ways of putting a positive spin on a negative matter. Dean had teased him a little, saying that Cas should be an expert on that as Christians always tried to justify the nasty parts of the bible with that same technique. Cas got kind of moody and quiet though, so Dean put a stop to it.

"We do a lot of good Dean," Cas had insisted, before adding a little haughtily, "I don't see any atheist charities about, do you?"

Dean laughed, unable to get angry with Dean when he was feeling so good (and without any alcohol for almost three days now!) "Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they don't exist," he answered, "besides, there are a lot of charities out there that are secular. They just don't advertise the fact. And thinking about it," a slightly snide smirk appeared, "shouldn't that be the way of the church? You aren't supposed to brag about all the good things you do. By putting your religions name on everything and telling everyone and putting others down, how are you unlike the Pharisees that Jesus didn't like, the ones who pray loudly on street corners about their wonderful acts of worship and charity?"

"It's not us bragging," said Cas slowly, "it's just saying who we are and why we are doing what we do. However, yes, I see your point. You're pretty familiar with the bible though, by the sounds of things."

Dean nodded, "I went to church when I was younger on the odd occasion, and I went to a Christian school. My family weren't very religious, but we celebrated all the holidays and in school we learnt only about the Christian faith. It was only in Junior High school that I began to learn about the Sikhs, Hindus, Buddhists and so on."

"Hm, you should have been taught other religions a little earlier."

Dean shrugged, "perhaps, but it's not that important. I made my decision when I was about twelve. I've never looked back."

"You made such an important decision so young?"

"Yes."

"But," Cas frowned, "you were only a child, isn't that a big step?"

Dean shrugged, "babies get baptised in Catholicism. What chance did they get to choose their religion? And when did you chose to be a Christian?"

"I was raised in it as well," said Cas slowly, thinking back to childhood days, "I never really got to any age and chose the religion. It's always been a part of me. I've always believed. I liked going to church as a child. I found it comforting. Some of my best childhood memories are the family saying a prayer before having a great evening meal, or when we would go away for special church based activities. All of my friends came from church."

"Are you still friends with them now?"

"No," Cas became stiff and awkward again, "but not because of any religious reasons. We just drifted apart."

"Well you couldn't have been that close then," Dean sneered a little, probably not realising how mean he sounded.

Cas knew that it was to undermine the importance of his faith and the links he made with people within it, but the truth was that all his old friends had fought hard to stay in contact with him. He had list them because of Lilith, not God. However, he couldn't tell Dean this, so he allowed Dean to believe whatever he wanted.

Then, finally, later in the morning customers began to arrive in the shop. Dean helped out, tidying up behind them and even using the cash register at one point.

He even got to know a few regulars. One man came in, looking around furtively as if someone had planted a bomb somewhere amongst the clothes aisles.

"Hi Chuck" called Cas jovially.

Dean watched the man jump slightly, staring at Cas in a manner that disconcerted Dean. 'I don't like this guy,' he thought nervously.

Suddenly the man broke out into a broad, slightly yellow-toothed grin, "why hello there Castiel!" he called, suddenly cheerful.

Then he winced and started looking around again, "I'm... I'm a bit worried. I need a disguise."

"Why?"

"Because They are after me again. I wish they'd leave me alone!"

Realisation hit Dean as kindness glowed in Cas's eyes. He walked over to Chuck and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Have you been taking your medication?"Cas asked gently.

The man brushed his hands over his face before saying a sad, "no...no I haven't. I can't trust the doctors. Anna isn't in and I need her! She's the only one I can trust."

Cas frowned. "Well, alright, let me give the hospital a call and I'll try and find out what's going on."

Chuck nodded furtively.

Dean watched as Cas dialled a number. As he did Chuck watched him as closely. Then he seemed to notice Dean starring. He glanced at Dean who suddenly looked away and felt stupid for doing so. Why couldn't he be like Cas, stay calm and open minded? All he saw when he looked at Chuck was a nutcase and therefore a potential threat.

Feeling judgemental he chastised himself, before deciding to go up to Chuck.

"H-hey man," he began awkwardly. "So, um, you're safe here ok? Don't wig out on us."

Chuck smiled ruefully, "I won't. But they are after me. If I have to run I will, I wouldn't want some innocents getting hurt because I know too much."

Ok, the guy was crazy but Dean admired the fact that, fantasy world or not, Chuck was brave and decent.

"Thanks," He genuinely smiled, feeling something of a link between them, "I appreciate that."

"Hello," Cas's gruff voice called out suddenly, someone had answered the phone. "Hi, my name is Castiel Novak. I have Chuck Shurley with me. He says Doctor Milton hasn't been in so he cannot take his medication." He listened for a while, before moving the handset from his face and saying to Chuck, "they say she was on a short holiday but is back today."

Chuck looked doubtful, "they say that," he complained, "but I'm not sure. And it was no holiday, they got rid of her because she was nice to us."

"How about I take you up?" he asked, "Dean can watch the shop, right Dean?"

"Uh...yeah...?"

Cas beamed and Dean had never felt so happy to do free work.

Chuck seemed happier too. "yes," he said, starting to pace up and down, his hands moving about and gesturing in incoherent excitement, "p-please, you take me...if there's no Anna, we get the hell out of there!"

"Deal," Cas turned back to the phone and relayed the message that he would personally take Chuck down to find Anna.

"I'll have to get public transport down," Cas confided in Dean quietly as Chuck waited by the front of the shop, peering anxiously out of the window. "I'll tell you more about Chuck later, but not now, he's too wired up and will think we're saying bad things about him."

Dean nodded, glancing up at the frightened man. Cas smiled at Dean's apprehension, "don't worry, he isn't dangerous, just frightened. I'll be gone about an hour. Thank you for watching the shop for me."

"Hey, no problem," Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder and squeezed softly, "anything to help."

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**A.N.- I think mental illness is something that is easily mocked, especially delusions or paranoia, because the fears or delusions can seem so ridiculous and far-fetched. However, the truth is, I have a lot of respect for people suffering who keep going. I cannot imagine the terror of believing that people are after you, or that there is a conspiracy, that people want to hurt you. The idea of voices frightening you and people never believing what you say is the stuff of nightmares for me. So yeah, I have a lot of respect for people who have mental illness but keep it together and keep trying to get better. That's really heroic in my mind. **

**Please leave a review, I love reading them and they help inspire me to write more.**


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